The British Poets: Including Translations ... (Google eBook)

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C. Whittingham, 1822 - English poetry
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Page 214 - Here strip, my children! here at once leap in, Here prove who best can dash through thick and thin, And who the most in love of dirt excel, Or dark dexterity of groping well.
Page 269 - See mystery to mathematics fly ! In vain ! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. Religion blushing veils her sacred fires, And unawares morality expires. For public flame, nor private, dares to shine ; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine ! Lo ! thy dread empire, Chaos ! is restor'd ; Light dies before thy uncreating word ; Thy hand, great Anarch ! lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all.
Page 53 - Indebted to no prince or peer alive, Sure I should want the care of ten Monroes,* 70 If I would scribble rather than repose. Years following years, steal something every day; At last they steal us from ourselves away ; In one our frolics, one amusements end, In one a mistress drops, in one a friend...
Page 192 - And here she planu'd th' imperial seat of Fools. Here to her chosen all her works she shows, Prose swell'd to verse, verse loit'ring into prose: How random thoughts now meaning chance to find, Now leave all memory of sense behind: How Prologues into Prefaces decay, And these to Notes are fritter'd quite away: How index-learning turns no student pale, Yet holds the eel of science by the tail...
Page 47 - But fill their purse, our poets' work is done, Alike to them by pathos or by pun. O, you ! whom vanity's light bark conveys On fame's mad voyage, by the wind of praise, With what a shifting gale your course you ply, For ever sunk too low, or borne too high ! Who pants for glory finds but short repose ; 300 A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
Page 234 - O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o'er-flowing full.
Page 268 - Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying Rain-bows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain ; As Argus
Page 201 - O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.
Page 254 - For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it, And write about it, Goddess, and about it: So spins the silk-worm small its slender store, And labours till it clouds itself all o'er.
Page 237 - Till one wide conflagration swallows all. Thence a new world, to nature's laws unknown, Breaks out refulgent, with a heaven its own: Another Cynthia her new journey runs, And other planets circle other suns. The forests dance, the rivers upward rise, Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies; And last, to give the whole creation grace, Lo! one vast egg produces human race. Joy fills his soul, joy innocent of thought; What power, he cries, what power these wonders wrought?

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